The Wasteland Journal of Mr Knox
by Robrafgon
Summary: Meet Knox. The Courier of New Vegas. A man better known for dragging the Lone Wanderer across the continent to New Vegas. But what of his story? How did he crawl from the grave to be Mr. House's top man? The Journal is a series of oneshots of Knox's past exploits all mentioned in the Shattered Illusions story "Dead Man's Hand".
1. The Whiskey Rose Part 1

_Hello and welcome everyone. This is a collection of one-shots exploring the Courier's antics with the various New Vegas companions as hinted or referenced in my other story "Dead Man's Hand". If you haven't read DMH, I would recommend that you do so. Not necessary, but definitely recommended. The whole structure of this collection of short stories is to elaborate on mentionings in DMH and such. I will update it as I reveal more and more past tidbits in DMH. So now I give my usual plea to you dear readers. Read, enjoy, and review!_

**November 10, 2278**

**22:30**

**Mojave Outpost**

Cass was drunk.

Again.

For the better part of the last two weeks Cass had attempted to lose herself in a whiskey induced stupor at the bar of Mojave Outpost. Normally, the fiery red head could hold her liquor with bar goers twice her weight, but normally didn't apply when one was trying to drown one's sorrows. And so, there she sat; loosely perched on a bar stool with a wall of bottles surrounding her lowered head.

The bar top was nowhere near clean, but the cool wood felt pleasant against her flushed skin. She grabbed her current bottle and attempted to pour herself another drink. After sloshing more whiskey onto the bar top instead of in the glass, Cass opted to drink from the bottle instead. The whiskey burned all the way down.

Just like it was supposed to.

However, the fire in her throat was nothing compared to the burning rage she was harboring beneath the haze of alcohol.

Cass did not want to be drunk in the bar of Mojave Outpost. In fact, there were many other bars she'd rather be drunk at, but here she was trapped at Mojave Outpost.

"Paper pushing, fuck!" she muttered into the bottle as she slouched back onto the bar top.

Her anger was directed towards Major Knight. Knight was the chief administrative officer of Mojave Outpost and one of the soldiers second in command to Ranger Jackson. Knight handled all the official day to day duties of the outpost. He made it a personal mission to make regulation into law. Because of this he and Cass had crossed paths before. Her prickly demeanor and all around abrasive manner had caused her to immediately butt heads with the major whenever her water caravan passed through the outpost.

But this time was different. Her caravan was across the Mojave in ashes. A raider attack had burned it to the ground, but instead of being able to run salvage or better yet hunt for revenge, Cass was stuck at the Mojave Outpost because of Major Knight.

The major had put the highway on lock down. Some sort of danger, Cass didn't really care, had made the road unfit for travel and so, no one was permitted to take their caravan and go. While Cass had no caravan she was not exempt in Major Knight's eyes and so here she was.

Trapped with nothing, but booze and time.

The bell hanging from the door on a frayed piece of rope tinkled gently.

"Evening, fellas!" called Lacey, the bartender, to the trio of men who had walked in.

They were clad in the leather armor commonly worn by mercenaries hired to protect the caravans. Seeing them just made Cass wonder if she'd done enough to protect her own caravan. Or if she could have done more.

"Beer. We'll be over there. And keep em coming." called the leader of the three men. They wandered over to a booth in the corner and sat down.

They were apparently out of the job now that the caravans were frozen. Cass smiled to herself. Someone else was going to try to drink away their sorrows at the bar tonight. Misery loves company after all.

Lacey delivered the men their drinks which they promptly started to sullenly nurse.

"Damn NCR. We don't get paid nothing now." started one of them.

" Jesus, Eddie. We've heard it already." snapped one of the other two.

"I'm just saying-" he continued.

"Can it, Eddie!" spoke the leader.

"Yeah, boss." he muttered. The other one just smirked at him.

"Just drink your drink and shut up. And wipe that stupid smile off your face, Joe."

Joe's smirk slid off his face. "Yes, boss."

"We're going to drink our drinks in peace and then, who knows, maybe we'll get some... relaxation later."

With this he glanced over at Cass who was again tossing her bottle back. She didn't notice him or at least pretended not to.

The door clattered again, but this time only one pair of footsteps entered. Cass didn't even glance up from her drink. She heard the stool next to hers slide back across the floor with a squeal.

_Yeah, this asshole is going to regret that. _She thought to herself.

"Howdy, stranger! Anything I can get for you?" called Lacey.

A tired man's voice replied, "Refill on my canteen, whatever you've got on the grill, and Sunset if you've got it."

"Coming right up. What about you, Cass? You need anything else?"

"Fuck off and get me another bottle." came the slurred reply.

Lacey just sighed and went about preparing the man's meal. She swiped a brahmin steak of the grill onto a plate and grabbed a bottle of Sunset Sarsaparilla from the fridge. Kicking the door of the fridge shut, she brought the meal to the man. He silently handed her a handful of caps and his canteen.

He uncapped the bottle and took a quick swallow and sighed with contentment.

Cass hiccuped and snorted into her drink.

"Want some? Or is it not strong enough for you?"

Cass snorted again and peered up at the stranger from under her cowboy hat. He was a younger man, probably late twenties, early thirties. His skin was tanned, but not from the Wasteland sun, it looked natural. He was wearing a khaki shirt and metal plate armor across his chest. The metal was scoured with dirt and ash. He wore a thigh holster over his cargo pants on his right leg. His left had a leather kneepad sewn in for stability while shooting.

All in all he looked weathered and tired. He'd seen some action.

He tilted his hat back and began cutting his steak. Cass looked up at his face. Above a frayed mustache sat a broken nose, above that a pair of weary brown eyes and above that… a bullet scar in his temple.

He'd definitely seen some action! Who was this guy?

"Hello? You in there, lady?" he asked.

Cass realized she'd been staring and in response raised her middle finger to the man. He sighed and went back to his food.

Lacey bustled over to the table with Cass's next bottle. She intervened before Cass could cause more offense to her new customer.

"Don't mind her, mister. She's not exactly in her right mind at the moment."

"I can see that."

"Not that it matters. Drunk or sober, Cass isn't what I would call friendly.

"Ah." The man turned his attention back to his steak.

Sensing that the conversation was over, Lacey decided to check on her other customers and leave the stranger to himself. Whoever he was, he clearly wasn't going to socialize with her. Oh, well. Time to go get more drinks for the drunks.

The silence held for several more minutes. As Cass was about to rudely inquire into the mysterious stranger's business, he broke the silence first.

"You're about to have some unwelcome attention."

"Excuse me?" she asked haughtily.

"Behind us. No. Don't look. The mercenaries at the table. They've been talking about you. It hasn't been chivalrous or gentlemanly talk at all."

"I'm pretty sure chivalry died before the bombs fell. What do you care anyway?"

The man paused in the midst of chewing a particular tough piece of steak.

"Not sure. Maybe chivalry isn't dead after all."

Cass gave a bitter laugh. "Ha! Bullshit! If you think that-"

Whatever she was going to say was cut off by a gloved hand clamping down on her shoulder.

"Evening, sweetheart." came a greasy voice. It was the leader of the mercenaries.

"We were wondering if you wouldn't mind joining us at our table. The boys and I, well, we're real lonely over there and we could use some company." On the last word he lifted his hand to stroke Cass' fiery hair.

She swatted his hand away. "I'd rather keep the Brahmin company. Go fuck yourself."

Cass tried to turn back to her drink, but one of the mercenary's cronies grabbed her arm and spun her back around on her chair.

"See now. I wasn't asking. You come with us, we all have a good time, and at the end, maybe, if you behave, we throw some caps your way."

Cass' face darkened and she spat in his face.

The mercenary boss's face simmered with barely concealed rage. "Joe. Eddie." he instructed.

His men grabbed Cass by her arms and hauled her to her feet. The boss gave her a swift punch in the gut. Cass doubled over coughing and her hat fell to the ground.

"Now, that. That wasn't very smart at all. We were all just going to have fun, but now, not so much."

Lacey chose this moment to come back into the bar from the back. She dropped the crate she was carrying with a clatter.

"Jesus, Cass! What have you done now!?" she exclaimed.

"Why's this got to be my fault?" Cass groaned from her position between Joe and Eddie.

The boss whirled towards Lacey, pulling his pistol from his holster.

"I'd go right back where you came from if I were you!"

"Now, guys, no trouble in here. You don't want the soldiers to come down on you!"

"They won't know a damn thing if you don't say anything, now will they?"

Lacey looked at Cass and then at the man pointing the gun at her.

"Sorry, Cass, you're on your own. You brought this on yourself."

"S'not my fault." Cass protested weakly.

The boss turned slowly on the spot.

"SAME GOES FOR ANYONE ELSE IN HERE! IF YOU'VE GOT A PROBLEM, THEN GET OUT!"

The announcement was much more theatrical than anything. Only a few patrons were there at this hour. Two caravaneers hurried out leaving only the mercenaries, Cass, and the stranger.

The boss walked over to where the man was still eating his steak.

"I take you must have misheard me. No one is stupid enough to stay here."

"Heard you just fine." he replied without looking up.

"Then why are you still here?"

"Haven't finished my meal." he said tersely.

The boss laughed loudly. "You haven't finished your fucking meal? HA! You stupid son of a BITCH!"

He swept his arms out and knocked the man's plate and drink to the ground. The man sighed and turned to face the mercenary with a cold look in his eye.

"Do you really want to do this?" He asked.

The boss just stood there with a bewildered look on his face.

"Boys," he called softly, "We have to teach our friend here a lesson."

Eddie and Joe released Cass (who slumped to the floor) and strode over to stand next to their boss.

"Fine then," the man shrugged and stood up. "I should tell you though. Your shoe is untied."

Eddie and Joe laughed stupidly. The boss just shook his head. "You really think I'm going to fall for that?"

The stranger just stared into his foe's eyes.

The boss maintained eye connect for several second. His eyes flicked to the floor.

The stranger darted forward and drove his fist into the boss's face. Before anyone had time to react, he'd whirled around him and slammed his elbow into Joe's throat. Eddie tried to lunge for him, but was blocked by his employer. Joe clutched his throat and the man violently kicked him in the knee with a sickening crunch. Eddie lunged again and this time succeeded in wrapping his arms around his quarry. The boss wiped blood from his nose before leveling his gun on the man.

"That was very, very stupid. You were just going to get an ass kicking, but now you're going to die. Any last words?"

"Yeah. Your shoe is still untied."

The boss's eyes flicked downwards again.

The man rammed his head backwards into Eddie's nose. Blood spurted out and Eddie's grip slipped slightly. The stranger slid down to the ground and jumped forward. He grabbed the boss's hand and twisted it violently. Bones cracked and the gun fell to the floor. The boss swung a wild punch and by luck landed it on the man's jaw. The stranger staggered backwards and tripped over Joe who was still on the ground.

"GET HIM!" Shouted the boss.

The stranger staggered to his feet just to be tackled by Eddie.

Right out the window.

The two landed in the dirt with a billow of dust. Eddie kneeled on his chest and began slamming his fists into his head. The man struggled to raise his arms to cover himself. The boss and Joe limped out of the bar.

"Now you die."

The boss raised his pistol in his none broken hand.

The crack of a gunshot rang out.

But it wasn't the one the stranger was expecting.

"Aaaaaahhhhhh! My hand!" screamed the boss. He clutched his bleeding hand to his chest.

"All of you, back off. Now." came a cold, female voice from above them.

Wreathed in darkness on the roof of the bar stood one of the Mojave rangers.

The mercenaries backed away nervously. More soldiers ran out of the barracks and the outpost at the sound of the shot. They formed a loose semi-circle around the combatants.

The ranger on the roof strode down the access ramp with her sniper rifle drawn.

"I want those three in custody now. Make sure that poor bastard isn't dead too."

The NCR troopers moved to carry out her commands and hurried to round up the mercenaries. Two of them knelt next to the stranger.

"Ma'am, um, I think you should see this."

"What is it, Knight?"

The ranger walked over to Major Knight and the trooper kneeling next to the beaten man.

"You've got be fucking kidding me." she said with disbelief.

"Er… about?" mumbled the stranger weakly.

Ghost turned to address the major again. "Major Knight, kindly restrain Courier 6."

The man brightened up from his position on the ground. "Ah yes. That. Um, well you see. I don't really know who that is. I got shot in the head; it was a whole thing and well… amnesia?"

Ghost smirked mirthlessly at him. "Normally you're better at lying than that."

"Maybe because I'm telling the truth?" he offered as Knight hauled him to his feet. His eyebrows jumped up as if realizing an epiphany. "Oh no… I didn't sleep with you did I?"

"What!? NO!"

He looked at Ghost suspiciously. "Are you sure? Most of the other women who I've met and are angry at me for no reason, it's because I slept with them."

"I didn't sleep with you!" Ghost insisted. "Knight, are you finished yet?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Then you can go lock him up where I can't see him." Ghost glared at the man, now with his hands shackled behind his back. He just shrugged nonchalantly.

"And here I was hoping we could solve this amicably. Tell me is the border between California and the Mojave at the statues over there," he pointed with his chin, "Or is there like a grey area where you'll still shoot me in the back?"

Knight looked at him in confusion. "What? Why?"

The man shrugged again. He glanced over to notice Cass stumbling out of the bar as Knight led him past her and around the corner. "No reason. Oops, I tripped."

Before Knight could react to the odd statement the man keeled forward out of Knight's grasp. Before slamming into the ground he tucked and rolled, bringing his legs up and under the cuffs. He rolled to his feet and swung his fists clasped together into Knight's jaw. The major dropped with a sharp exhalation of air.

The man knelt down next to him and started digging through his pockets. "Sorry about that. I'm sure you're a perfectly pleasant bureaucrat like all the other NCR officers I've met." Grinning victoriously, he found the keys to his cuffs and tilted his hands awkwardly to unlock them. The crunch of gravel disturbed this process.

"I'd really be very grateful if you didn't shoot me in the back," he said quickly.

Cass stepped around in front of him. "Now why would I do that to the man who saved me?"

"Oh! Hello, drunk lady. I mean Cass."

Cass slapped him in the side of the head, knocking his hat askew and dropped his pack next to him. "You're kind of a jackass aren't you?"

"It's a fault, I'll admit."

"Anyway, I figured you'd want your stuff. Now, give me those keys before you drop them somewhere. We've got to go before Ghost gets herself together to gloat that she's got you locked up. What'd you do anyway?"

"Haven't the faintest. Well, except I'm fairly certain I did sleep with her. Can't remember, but she seems just a little too mad."

"You were serious with that amnesia crap?"

The man smiled brightly as his manacles clicked undone. "As serious as a shot to the head. From what I've gathered I was a courier and I was robbed."

Cass shook her head and spat on the ground. "Damn. That's low. You don't rob couriers. You just don't fuck with the man carrying your mail. So what do I call you, courier?"

With a smile the man replied, "Knox will do just fine."

"And how do you know your name is Knix?" Cass asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Knox," he corrected.

"Whatever. How'd you know?"

"Written on my underwear," Knox answered as he slung his backpack over his shoulders.

"Seriously?"

"No, not seriously," Knox said caustically. "I found it on a delivery invoice at the Mojave Express in Primm. My underwear, really…" he muttered.

"Don't snap at me, I just rescued you!" Cass hissed at him.

"Rescued? You unlocked my cuffs… with the keys I already had. Let's not be too generous with your part in this."

Cass crossed her arms and glared at him. "Fine, go get yourself fucked. When you get caught trying to sneak out of here it won't be my problem."

Knox dropped the sarcastic tone and was suddenly all smiles. "By the way you say that I assume you have something to offer me in the ways of help."

"It's really creepy how you do that; go from insults to smiles. Kind of two-faced."

"Again, it's a fault. I'm working on it. Now about that help?"

"I know when the shift changes are," Cass said. "Sitting at bar for two weeks, looking out the window gave me plenty of time to figure it all out. Ten minutes, east gate."

Knox thanked her as he started to walk away, but quickly stopped as she tagged along next to him. "Er… what are you doing?"

"I'm going with you. I can't leave the outpost officially, so if I'm going to sneak away and commit a crime, then I'm going to do it with someone who can handle themselves in a fight and isn't a _complete_ asshole." The way Cass said it made it clear the topic wasn't up for debate.

Knox still tried. "Not to be rude," he said rudely, "But I'm not really looking for a companion on the road at the moment, or ever actually. So, no."

"I'll scream if you don't take me."

"Really? Scream?" asked Knox mockingly. "Don't want to try swooning first?"

Cass slid her shotgun of her shoulder. "Good point. I could always shoot you."

Knox eyed the gun and Cass, weighing his options in his head. "Fine," he muttered darkly, "But you better not slow me down."

"I'm a caravaneer," Cass said as she pushed past him in the direction of the East gate, "_you'd_ better not slow _me_ down."

**November 11, 2278**

**06:00**

**Primm**

The two weary travelers stumbled into Primm before sunrise. Only the desk manager was awake at the Bison Steve. Knox tossed some caps at him for a room without even counting. The manager handed him a key and Knox trudged off with Cass close on his heels.

"So I take you're not going to get yourself a room?" he asked.

"Why? You've already got one," she answered with a yawn. Walking all night had been taxing.

"Silly me," Knox muttered. "Maybe, just maybe, Cass, I don't want to share a room with you. _Maybe_ I'm worried you're some kind of psychopath or something."

Cass laughed loudly, earning a "shut the fuck up" from behind one of the hotel's doors. She stowed the laughter and replied quietly with a grin, "You're afraid of me being a psychopath? Which of us was the one being arrested a few hours ago? And you're afraid of me?"

"Absolutely," Knox replied deadpan as he unlocked their door. "You're going to use your feminine wiles or something to steal my money and my organs."

Cass smirked and pushed Knox into the dark room. "Well, speaking of feminine wiles, I still haven't thanked you for saving my life."

Knox stared at her, momentarily baffled until she started unbuttoning her flannel shirt. "Ah yes, the traditional means of thanks for being saved from rapists is to have sex with your savior."

Cass's arms dropped to her sides, her shirt half unbuttoned. "Are you trying to kill the mood?"

"Yes," Knox said shortly. He gingerly leaned over the partially undressed woman and shut the door. "I'm not going to sleep with you, Cass. Unless of course it's in the sense where you and I sleep next to each other in the one bed in here because you insisted on sharing the room. But only if you don't hog all the blankets."

Cass's expression flickered from confused, to hurt, to flat our angry. She pushed past Knox with a muttered, "Whatever," and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from a shelf and marched over to the room's table where she cracked open the bottle and started helping herself to generous amounts of its contents.

"Great, she's drinking again," Knox said softly to himself. Louder he said, "I don't think I like drunk you."

Cass flipped him off over her shoulder and spat out, "too fucking bad!"

Knox sighed and dropped his pack to the floor before collapsing on the bed, asleep within seconds.

**November 11, 2278**

**10:00**

**The Bison Steve Hotel**

Knox awoke only a few hours later, but still felt immensely refreshed. He cracked his neck and sat up in bed. Sun was shining, birds were chirping, Cass was crying.

Wait. Cass was crying? That seemed wrong.

Cass was slumped over the table, tears streaming down her face. Several empty bottles littered the table around her and in one hand she firmly clasped one about half full. Her hat lay on the floor with her bag.

Knox slowly approached, unsure of how to proceed. "Uh… Cass? You alright?"

Cass's red-rimmed eyes turned on him unfocusedly. "Cassidy Caravans," she said hoarsely. "My caravan. It's gone," she croaked.

Knox moved to take a seat next to her, but the overwhelming sent of liquor forced him across the table instead. "Yeah, I gathered that much," he said. "Sorry about that."

"Why should you be sorry?" Cass asked miserably. "Is started Cassidy Caravans by myself. No help. Not my mom. She didn't know how to run a caravan. And definitely not my dad," she said bitterly. "All he gave me was a name. Rose of Sharon Cassidy. And this."

She gestured emphatically with the whiskey bottle she was holding.

"When I got to the Mojave business was good. I did good work trading water. Until the raids started. Between the Vipers, the Jackals, and the Fiends the only safe caravans are the Legion's. While they don't have a good stance on women, politics, or pretty much anything else, they do know how to protect a caravan. The NCR just kept us all cooped up at Mojave Outpost. While I was stuck there my caravans were hit. Burned to the ground. Bodies, Brahmin, and everything. Knight wouldn't let me leave the outpost to figure out what had happened. Everything I built is now ashes."

Cass's voice caught and she took another swig of whiskey.

A tear rolled down the side of her face.

Knox was blown away to see the belligerent women he'd met the night before turn to this.

"If you ever tell anyone I'm crying I'm going to rip off your balls and show them to you."

Right back in his comfort zone.

"Cass if you ever want help finding out what happened to your caravan-"

"No. It's dust. Nothing's going to change that. I'm going to the Crimson Caravan and I'm selling them the name Cassidy Caravans. They can buy it back from the NCR. I can at least get a few caps for a name. Then I can go find a bar and forget all about it."

"Cass, maybe-"

"I know. I'm a drunken idiot. Every time I've got something good I wipe it all away with whiskey. People used to call me Whiskey Rose. Not anymore though. At least not to my face."

Silence filled the night air for a second, but it was broken as Knox scooted his chair back and stepped over to the hotel bar and grabbed the only two remaining bottles of alcohol in the room. He walked over to the window and pulled it open. Before Cass's very confused eyes he threw both full bottles out the window.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Cass shouted as she got unsteadily to her feet.

"Helping you," Knox said simply. "Now give me that bottle." Knox held his hand out for the half full bottle Cass was still holding.

"No fucking way!"

"You have a drinking problem."

"No shit!"

"Cass," Knox warned, "give me the goddamned bottle." He advanced a step and Cass took a step back.

She tripped on the chair she'd been sitting in and tumbled backwards. Knox lunged forwards grabbing at her last bottle. Cass screeched and kicked and punched, but Knox managed to wrestle the bottle out of her grasp and hold her at bay by planting a hand in her face and pushing backwards.

Cass toppled back over the bed, cursing as she smacked her head into the floor. She scrabbled to her feet as Knox whipped the final bottle of whiskey out the window. Cass felt her soul break as she heard the glass shatter on the ground below.

"NOOOOO!" she howled and dove for the window.

Knox wrapped his arms around her waist before she could jump after it and threw her back onto the bed. "Sit down!" he commanded.

Cass's mouth clamped shut in surprise.

"Here's how it is. You're an alcoholic. That's causing you problems. I'm a nice guy so I'm going to help you. You and I… we're going to the Crimson Caravan Company. You're going to sell the name Cassidy Caravan's to them. Clean slate. Fresh start, whatever you want to call it. And damn it… you're going to do it sober!"

Cass stared at him in shock as he stood adamantly before her. She hiccupped. No one had ever actively tried to help her like this. Sure, she'd tried to go clean before, but she'd never succeeded. And now here was a man she hadn't even known for twenty-four hours telling her he was going to help her.

Her mind couldn't quite handle the load of processing an altruistic action of this personal magnitude.

So she didn't.

Knox sighed and awkwardly patted Cass on the shoulder as she started crying again before swiftly exiting the room. Cass barely even noticed he was gone until the door clicked open again and Knox reentered a bottle in either hand.

"Relax. It's Nuka," he explained as Cass's eyes lit up in suspicion. He motioned to the table and set the bottles down. "Have a seat?"

Slowly Cass meandered over and sat across from him. She stared at the bottle of Nuka-Cola unwaveringly, but didn't drink. Knox sat watching her, his bottle sitting unopened as well.

"Are you gonna drink that? Or just stare at it? I robbed a vending machine for it."

Cass gave a watery chuckle at that and dried her eyes on the heel of her hand before sniffing loudly, clearing her throat, and spitting out a wad of phlegm into the sink.

"Lovely," commented Knox. Cass either didn't hear him or chose to ignore it.

She instead uncapped the bottle of soda and took a deep swig of it. After a few more moments of silence she took another sip, slightly shorter. Again, another sip. Within a few minutes the bottle sat empty in front of her. She eyed Knox's hungrily. He grinned and slid it across the table to her.

"Go ahead. But please don't develop diabetes. That would be much harder for me to help you with."

Cass laughed again and assured, "that shouldn't be a problem." She tipped the bottle back and slammed its contents. Knox watched in silent amazement as the sugary brown liquid disappeared down her throat rapidly.

With a sharp inhale Cass released the bottle from her lips and slammed it onto the table. She stood up and crossed around to Knox's side. She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

"Uh, Cass?"

Cass shushed him as she undid the last few buttons on her shirt and pulled it off, leaving her standing in nothing, but her blue jeans and bra.

"I thought my whole stance on thank you sex was established," Knox half joked, half warned.

"This isn't me thanking you," Cass said as she reached behind her back to undo her bra. "This is me telling you that you are the most genuinely nice person I've met in years and that if I don't do something to start a relationship with you, I'll be kicking myself forever. If that makes you feel awkward you can take me on a date later."

With that she grabbed the lapels of Knox's shirt and dragged him to the bed with a startled, "Ah!"

Knox, to his credit, recognized that this was a situation Cass was not going to budge on. Or rather she would budge. Lots and lots of budging.

Maybe it wasn't so bad to have a companion. A Nuka fueled, fiery haired, hell-cat of a companion. Women didn't get much better than that, did they?

Cass snapped in front of Knox's face. "Hey! Stop daydreaming," she commanded. "Audience participation is required."

"Sorry, shot in the head and all that."

"I can already tell that you're going to try to pull that one out any time I ask you to do something. That's not going to fly in this relationship."

"Oh? Is that what this is? A relationship?" Knox remarked as Cass pulled his shirt off.

Cass sat up, straddling him. "Am I wearing clothes?" Knox shook his head. "Are you wearing clothes?" Knox shook his head again. "Was any sort of monetary transaction involved?" Knox gave a third shake of his head.

"Then yes, this is a relationship. And you're my lucky boyfriend."

"What about casual sex?" Knox asked cheekily.

Cass shut him up by mashing her lips against his.

Nope. Women did not get much better than Cass, Knox decided. And this… relationship… wasn't too bad either.

In fact, he'd classify it as good. Great even.

_Ta-da! That was fun wasn't it? To those of you who haven't read DMH I won't reveal any spoilers as to where this all goes. To those of you who have read it, man, it's just going to drive you batty waiting to see how we get from here to DMH. The Whiskey Rose will probably have two to three more oneshots leading up to the future in DMH. Some other bits and pieces to look forward to will be Raul and Boone. Maybe Veronica, but she gets some serious page time in DMH so we'll see. Anyway, please leave a review before you check out and if you haven't already go read "Dead Man's Hand" and the rest of the "Shattered Illusions" stories._


	2. A Repentant Man

_Welcome readers! Welcome to another chapter of "The Wasteland Journals of Mr. Knox"! This little oneshot is based in an interaction in chapter 9 of Dead Man's Hand. I hope you like it. I find writing Boone to be a challenge, he's kind of quiet. So let me know how I did! Leave a review por favor! That's please!_

**January 28, 2279**

**10:30**

**Red Rock Canyon**

"This was a terrible idea."

Knox's eyelids fluttered in response as Boone's gruff voice woke him up. He opened his eyes to glance at the sniper, but immediately closed them again as he was assaulted by a pounding headache.

"What makes you say that?" he asked in a pained voice.

Boone didn't reply, but Knox reckoned he could feel the glare burning into his face with the force of a laser rifle.

"Okay. I suppose this all could have gone a lot better."

The admission rang hollow as the two hung from their ankles, dangling from Red Rock Canyon's cliffs, high above the Great Khan village.

The two had been there for the better part of 48 hours and between the wind, sun, lack of food, and blood rushing to their heads, both men were more than ready to be anywhere, but there. Unfortunately, Papa Khan had made damned sure the two were secured after their first several escape attempts. Now here they hung, suspended above the camp, hands bound tightly behind their backs.

They'd been gagged too, but it had only taken Knox a few industrious hours to chew threw it. Boone had been content to sit in silence, but had made the effort to free his mouth if only to tell the Courier to shut up. That silence hadn't lasted all that long and this one wasn't looking all that promising either, but not because of Knox's desire to talk.

The quiet held for a few moments longer until Boone's frustration won out and he began wiggling back and forth, his rope swinging around wildly. The sniper shouted, "GET ME THE HELL DOWN FROM HERE!" at the top of his lungs. As his voice echoed throughout the canyon, laughs could be heard far below. The Khans had found his cry highly amusing.

Knox chuckled weakly at the sniper's outburst as well. The normally stoic sniper hung fuming next to him.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?" he asked coldly. "This is all your fault."

Knox pouted at him. "Really? All mine? I thought I had some pretty good escape attempts."

Boone let out a short, barking laugh. "You call those escape attempts!? WE'RE STUCK UP HERE BECAUSE OF YOU!"

A bullet pinged off the cliff face, spraying them with chunks of red dust. Both reflexively tried to avoid it and only succeeded in swinging themselves around and smacking into each other.

As Knox swung in front of Boone's face he tried to meet the sniper's brown eyes, his sunglasses long fallen to the ground.

"I fail to see how this is my fault."

Boone violently swung himself at him in response, but quickly realized the futility of his actions. He took a deep calming breath.

Under his breath he muttered, "I can't believe this actually requires an explanation."

**January 26, 2279**

**02:00**

**Bittersprings**

Boone shifted his weight, sweat dripping off his nose. Behind him he could here Knox firing from his pistols off the ridge into the Legion horde beneath them like some kind of demonic cowboy. Here they were, visiting Bittersprings on the same night as a Legion raid. What were the odds of that? Astronomical, he figured. Though if ever there was a time for the unlikely to occur, it would be with Knox, a man who'd survived execution.

When the Legion had shown up, he'd just been focused on killing them. Pumping out shot after shot into skull after skull. Laying in the dirt, scope to his eye, atop Coyote Tail Ridge. It was just like the first times at Bittersprings. Except instead of shooting Great Khan civilians he was defending them.

Or so he thought. In actuality he'd just been killing Legion. Then Knox had taken a machete to the stomach, jumping in to cover his stupid ass.

The Legion recruit had managed to scale the side of the ridge outside of Knox's killbox. With a howl, he'd charged Boone's unprotected back and what did Knox do? He dove over him, tackling the recruit and taking the machete himself. How many times would the Courier stop a blow before it finally killed him? At this rate, Boone might never know. Knox had gotten quite good at saving his ass.

Killing Legion had been his entire focus after Knox had helped bring justice to Carla's murder. Boone had suspected that focus might be what finally did him in, but that hadn't bothered him all that much. At least not until Knox staggered back to his feet, put a bullet into the Legionary still trying to gut him, turned to Boone, and pointed to the camp.

"The camp's on fire! We need to get down there and help the refugees!"

Boone had almost argued, his thirst for blood was so great, but Knox had dragged him to his feet and started pulling him to the camp.

"You can kill Legion just as well down there as up here! But down there we can save some people," he shouted, before breaking into a ragged run.

Saving people. The thought seemed so foreign. And that bothered him. He'd become soldier to save people. Hadn't he?

But then he thought about it. First it was fighting the Brotherhood of Steel in California. Why? Not because they were a threat, but because they had technology. Then it was fighting the Khans. Not for protection, but for extermination. And then the Legion. For revenge.

Boone blinked hard and fought the urge to keep his eyes squeezed shut and block out the past. He forced his eyes open and charged after Knox.

Fighting to defend people. Fighting to defend the Great Khans. That thought would never have crossed his mind before meeting Knox. And now here he was charging into danger.

Throwing himself in front of danger was not a foreign concept. He'd been doing it for months in the hopes that his ticket would finally be punched. Now here he was throwing himself in front of it to shield someone else.

He'd been fighting for so long, in order to slake his bloodlust, telling himself that his penance would be the inevitable bullet coming for him. But that hadn't been penance, just his revenge hiding in plain sight.

As he ran into the Bittersprings encampment, rifle booming, he knew. This. This was his penance. He destroyed the Khans once, now he was going to save them or die trying.

No, damn it. He might die, but he _would_ save them. That he knew, back to back with a Courier, surrounded by Legion. But fuck the bullet coming to kill him. He wasn't going to lie down and take it. No, he'd fight. He'd fight until every last goddamned refugee made it out safe.

_You're mad because I made you go back to Bittersprings?_

_-Not at all. I'm mad because of what you did later that morning._

_Ah. Yeah. That._

**January 26, 2279**

**08:00**

**Bittersprings**

Knox was leaning back against a boulder, threading a stimpak between the plates of his armor that the machete had slid between. A shallow cut, but still painful. Slapping a bandage on top of it and then tugging the straps of his armor, Knox tightened the plates over the wound, wincing in discomfort.

"So, how do you feel?" he asked.

Boone was standing up and looking down over the camp. Khans were rummaging around in the ash and dirt, trying to salvage anything they could. Their home may have been burned to the ground, but they'd made it. They'd _all_ made it. Thanks to a 1st Recon sniper who'd been responsible for the massacre that had made them refugees in the first place.

"I feel… good," the sniper answered slowly. "I don't really understand it."

Knox chuckled and then coughed heavily in pain. "Yeah, after so long hating yourself, some positivity has to be unusual," he said sarcastically.

"Yeah, I don't like it."

Boone's voice had zero inflection to it, but Knox could tell he was joking. They'd been traveling together long enough for him to know a joke when he heard it. Even if they were rare.

Boone wandered away from the edge of the cliff they were perched atop and came to sit across from Knox.

"You've done me a service I can never repay," Boone thanked him.

Knox waved a hand dismissively. "You've got to stop thinking transactionally, Boone. You already had your whole karma dilemma. Don't worry about paying me back."

"I suppose."

Knox raised his eyebrows and pointed a stern finger at Boone. "I'm serious. Don't worry."

The two fell silent for a few moments, the wind and the sounds from the camp below, the only things to be heard. Talking, laughing, crying, all of it was carried by the breeze up to them.

"Have you heard what they're saying down in the camp about last night?" Knox asked.

Boone shook his head.

Knox grinned. "You'll get a kick out of this then. The Demon Sniper of Bittersprings, his beret dyed red with the blood of the Legion, his rifle spitting righteous death," he said in a theatrical whisper.

Boone snorted. "The Great Khans don't need more ghost stories. They've already got enough. Ghost stories aren't going to help them when trouble comes knocking on their doors."

"Then don't be ghost story."

Boone cocked his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"A former 1st Recon sniper is a very real ally the Khans could use."

Boone laughed out loud. The very idea was ridiculous. "If I approach the Khans, do you know what they'll do? Shoot me," he said shaking his head at the ridiculous notion.

Knox shrugged. "I don't know. After this, you've got some pretty good karma with them."

With a sigh of irritation he started to mutter, "You just said I have no kar-" but stopped at the ever widening grin adorning Knox's face. Boone looked back to the cliff's edge and the camp.

"You really think I could actually help them?"

"It's not about what I think."

With a groan, Boone pushed his sunglasses up to his forehead and rubbed his eyes.

"If we get shot on sight, I blame you."

_I'll admit. Maybe we shouldn't have just walked into Red Rock Canyon._

_-Oh, that's not the worst. It's everything you did after the walking in._

_It's just bitch, bitch, bitch with you._

_-Do you even remember what you said to Papa Khan?_

_It's all a little fuzzy after getting a plate broken over my head, but I suppose I shouldn't have introduced you as 'the Demon Sniper of Bittersprings'. I see now how that could be taken the wrong way._

_-You think?_

_Eh, whatever. I tried to get us out of there at least!_

_-And you did a wonderful job._

**January 27, 2279**

**14:00**

**Red Rock Canyon**

"Boone! There's a knife in my boot. They didn't find it. If I can wiggle on over to you, you can grab it with your teeth and cut us free!"

Knox slid across the dirt floor of the tent they'd been tossed in on his elbows and knees. His wrists and ankles were tightly bound. Upon reaching the similarly bound Boone, he thrust his feet up into Boone's face.

"I'm not putting my mouth on your boots," he said coldly.

Knox bumped his heels on Boone's chin emphatically. "Don't think of it as kissing my feet, think of it as saving our butts."

Boone rolled his eyes and tried to pull away, but failed spectacularly as he instead tipped over due to his bindings. As he fell forwards, Knox tried to roll backwards. All that succeeded in happening was Boone falling with his head between Knox's legs, his face landing on Knox's crotch.

Boone grumbled unhappily and tried to free himself from the position. Knox wasn't helping much. Instead he just chose to laugh and say, "Fear not, my friend. I've gotten out of plenty more compromising positions than this.

The door to the tent swung open and a female, sub-machine gun toting, Great Khan stared down at them in surprise.

"Okay. Maybe not _this_ compromising."

"I _hate_ you," was Boone's muffled reply from his position in between Knox's legs.

The Khan stood there, her gun held awkwardly as she looked down on them in puzzlement. "What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

Knox looked up at her with a cheeky grin and a quirked eyebrow. "Would you believe we're trying our very hardest to escape?"

As soon as the words left his mouth, the Khan's face hardened. Apparently, escaping was not a good thing. She walked over and kicked Knox in the side. Knox yowled and tried to jump away, but his legs were caught when his bindings started choking Boone.

The Khan screamed at them as she continued throttling him. "NO ESCAPING! Take judgment like a man!"

Knox tried to put his hands up to block his face as she kept kicking. She kicked hard! Her Khan tats weren't for show. She was one tough woman.

"Stop! Stop! Stop it!" Knox shouted as he finally succeeded in catching the Khan's booted foot. She balanced precariously on one foot, but stopped kicking Knox for a moment.

"Are steel toed boots any way to greet a hero?" Knox asked, glaring up at the woman.

"Hero? What the fuck are you on about?"

"I just saved Bittersprings!" The Khan's eyes widened in surprise.

"You just saved Bittersprings?" Boone whispered. "What happened to we?"

"Shut up. Leave this to me," Knox hissed out of the corner of his mouth. To the Khan he said, "I thought Khans valued honor, and here you are tying up and beating a hero!"

The woman grabbed Knox by his lapels and hauled him up, once more strangling Boone with Knox's bindings.

"I've got honor! You saying I don't got honor?" she howled into his face.

"Not at all," Knox said, giving her a disarming smile. "You just aren't showing it is all. I gather that by now, news has reached Red Rock about Bittersprings?"

"Yeah," the Khan admitted slowly. "Message runners said a Legion raid party hit Bittersprings."

"And?" Knox prodded.

"And supposedly two crazy outsiders stopped them."

Knox gestured between himself and Boone several times with his bound hands. The Khan woman looked between the two of them several times before loudly declaring, "Bullshit."

"Seriously!" Knox insisted. "How else would we know about Bittersprings?"

This stumped the Khan. She couldn't explain how the prisoners could possibly know about what had happened at Bittersprings. Red Rock had just received the news and these two had walked into camp last night. There was no way they could know! Unless…

"You really were at Bittersprings?" she asked suspiciously. "Prove it!"

"Uh… how?"

Again the Khan's gun lowered in confusion. That was a good question. How do you prove you were somewhere other than someone saying you were there. Except…

The Khan's eyes brightened. "I've got it! I know how to prove it! I'll be right back. Don't move!"

She released Knox and dropped him to the floor along with Boone. Without another word she dashed out of the tent.

Know yelled after her, "Don't worry, we'll be here, tied up!" and Boone lay gasping trying to get his breath back, his throat finally not restricted.

The two could hear urgent voices speaking quietly outside the tent and then one loud voice demanding they shut up. The door to the tent was thrown open again and several Khans entered; the woman from before, several others, and Papa Khan himself.

Papa slowly walked over to them, each step a stomp. He knelt down next to them and glared heavily at them from under the brim of his helmet.

"I'm told you two are making some serious claims. Claims that you, Courier, and you, sniper, were at Bittersprings. Protecting it," he growled. "I'm told you're willing to prove that."

"Absolutely," Knox said, nodding. Boone just silently acquiesced.

Papa Khan grinned widely. "Excellent," he said. To the Khans he said, "To the arena with them."

Boone and Knox exchanged a look as they were pulled to their feet. Arena. That didn't sound good.

_How was I supposed to know that's how they would find "the truth"!?_

_-Well maybe you shouldn't have agreed so quickly then!_

_Well it worked, didn't it?_

_-Worked might be a strong word for what happened._

**January 27, 2279**

**14:15**

**Red Rock Canyon**

Boone wouldn't have exactly called it an arena when he was dragged through the dirt and thrown into it. Dirt square would have been more accurate. Knox and he lay side by side in the Khan's arena surrounded by burning barrels and Khans. Apparently the entire gang had come out to watch this.

The woman from before walked up and cut their bonds and then stepped back into the human mob watching them. After a moment the wall of people separated allowing Papa Khan to stride forward to the edge.

Boone hesitantly got to his feet, rubbing feeling back into his hands. Knox held a hand out for a hand up, but after realizing Boone wasn't offering, he grumbled and got to his feet as well. They both turned to face Papa Khan.

The leader of the Great Khans was grinning broadly at them. He raised his fists up and addressed the assembled crowd. "Shut up, you mongrels," he hollered at them. A flurry of answering shouts and catcalls rang out, but the Khans slowly quieted themselves to let their warlord speak.

"Before you are two men claiming to be the heroes of Bittersprings!"

The crowd began booing and throwing rocks at Boone and Knox. Papa Khan laughed with his hands on his hips as the two tried to dodge all the debris.

"Looks like they think you're liars," he chortled. To his people he shouted, "What do we do with liars!?"

As one the crowd yelled back, their voices shaking the canyon. "WE SEND THEM TO THE ARENA!"

With his arms thrown out to the sides, Papa Khan spun in circle on his heels. "And what happens then!?"

"LIARS LOSE!"

Addressing the two unfortunates standing in the ring, Papa Khan pointed and said, "Combat is the only true thing in this life. You want to tell the truth? You win." He grinned broadly and stepped back out of the arena. "Let's see which of you's stories is the truth!"

Knox held his hands up in exasperation. "It's the same story. We're telling the _same_ story!"

Before he could get anything else out, Boone's fist impacted his jaw sending him spinning. Knox rolled with the blow back to his feet, his weight braced on his back legs and his hands up, guarding.

"Boone!? What the fuck?" he asked, ducking as Boone jabbed at his face again with his fists in quick succession.

Knox didn't fire back though; he just ducked and weaved under the sniper's blows. Boone feinted high and then shot his fist into Knox's unprotected side. The Courier was lifted up slightly by the force of the blow, his voice cut off as his air rushed out of his mouth.

Boone spun around him and wrapped a hand around Knox's neck before violently dropping down onto one knee, bringing Knox's head crashing onto his knee. Knox rolled off his leg into the dirt with a groan.

The crowd was silent at how swiftly the fight had ended. Boone stood slowly, barely panting at all, he coolly gazed out at the crowd. He stepped over Knox and faced Papa Khan.

"Guess I'm telling the truth. That's what this was right? You said the winner's story was the truth? Well, I guess the truth is that a 1st Recon Sniper just saved Bittersprings."

After his proclamation, the crowd grew still and somehow even quieter. A dangerous tension fell over the crowd.

Papa Khan pushed his way back into the arena. His voice low and a dark growl, he spat out, "You're 1st Recon?"

Boone nodded and said, "I am."

Papa Khan stepped closer, his bushy bearded face inches away from Boone's. "You're one of the murderers who gunned down our people?"

Boone swallowed and nodded again. "I am," he said softly.

Papa Khan ground his teeth together and so low Boone could barely hear it, he said, "And you just saved them all?"

Once more Boone nodded.

Papa Khan took a step back, his brow furrowed and his jaw tight. He turned around and started wading his way back through the crowd. He stopped next to the woman who'd first found Knox and Boone in the tent.

Without looking, he said, "String 'em up."

Before Boone could react the horde had descended on him and the prone Knox and dragged them off to the canyon tops.

_My head still hurts from you punching me._

_-You have a hard head. My fists hurt from punching it._

_Hilarious._

**January 28, 2279**

**10:30**

**Red Rock Canyon**

"You really think this is all my fault?"

Boone sighed at Knox's question. "It was your idea to come here, but no. I don't. It had to happen sooner or later. I needed to face the Khans."

Knox shrugged as best he could from his position. "I suppose it certainly could have gone better, but hey! Bright side, we're not dead!"

"Yet."

"Fatalism isn't helping."

Their bickering was interrupted by the sound of booted feet in gravel. Knox tried to look up, but couldn't swing into a position to see what was happening on the cliff above.

"You gonna let us down?" he yelled, still trying to swing out far enough to see.

There was no answer, but the sound of a knife sawing on rope.

"That doesn't sound good."

Boone just shook his head as a sharp snap was heard and Knox suddenly started plummeting towards the red ground below. A second snap sounded and Boone began his own sharp descent. Wind rushed past his face as he dropped rapidly to the canyon floor. A sudden bone jarring jolt halted his momentum a few feet from the ground.

He snapped up like a yoyo and slammed into the also dangling Knox.

"HA! I bet you thought we were going die!"

"And you didn't?" Boone muttered.

Knox shook his head. "I focus on the positives like-" Knox was cut off as the ropes holding them up were cut completely and they fell onto the ground face first. "Mother fucker! What the hell!?" Knox shouted in anger as his face slammed into the dirt.

Boone rolled over smirking. "Positives right."

"Looks like you two didn't die up there."

Papa Khan's distinctive gravelly voice drew their attention to where he was standing, flanked by two Khans. He walked forward and knelt down to cut their ties. Boone and Knox warily got to their feet. The last time they'd been freed it had only been to be thrown into the arena.

Papa clapped a hand on Boone's shoulder. "I never thought I'd say this to a 1st Recon Sniper, but… You've done us a great service. You protected our people at Bittersprings when we couldn't. Thank you."

Boone gave a jerky nod. "No need for thanks. It was something I had to do. I wronged the Khans. I want to fix that wrong."

"You have," Papa assured him.

"Not yet I haven't. As long as the Great Khans are stuck out here, you've got my eye watching your back."

Papa nodded. His silent acknowledgement enough for the unusually verbose sniper. "Then go in peace. You've got our back and we've got yours." Papa shuffled awkwardly. "Sorry we had you hanging up there for so long, sniper."

"Yeah, apologize to him," Knox muttered.

Papa cast his eye on Knox and frowned. "You're lucky we cut you down at all."

"Why is that?"

"You lost in the arena."

Before Knox could protest or argue Boone tapped him on the shoulder and shook his head. They shook hands with Papa Khan and that was it. The ordeal had ended. And Boone felt lighter with each step out of the camp. Avenging Carla, defending Bittersprings, and now this, coming clean to the Great Khans. At each point it was as if a great weight was being lifted off him.

Boone looked at Knox as they walked out of Red Rock Canyon, battered and bruised, but finally free. He'd still be the same bitter, haunted man if it wasn't for the Courier.

"Thank you, Knox."

Knox snorted. "Eh, no thanks needed. I'm just glad everything worked out in the end. I'd hate to have let you kick my ass for no reason."

"Let me?" Boone asked, one eyebrow lifted above the edge of his sunglasses.

Knox gave him a sly grin. "Oh come now, Boone. You're a sniper, not a fist-fighter. I didn't want to hurt your feelings by beating you."

Boone looked sideways at him, his head slightly tilted to the side. "Whatever you have to tell yourself, Knox. Whatever you have to tell yourself."

With a loud laugh Knox kept walking, leading the way back into the Mojave. Boone followed along behind him and the sniper couldn't help, but think that it had been awfully easy to beat Knox.

Almost too easy.

But no. No way.

Boone sighed and under his breath said, "Whatever I have to tell myself."

_And another little bit a backstory! Hope you liked it. The amount of trouble I had writing this was ridiculous. Probably because Cass's first bit of backstory was super easy. That whole relationship is really strong in my mind. Inversely, I imagine Boone to be super loyal and motivated to help the Khans, but also very quiet. Writing a whole one-shot with one very quiet character is difficult. But anyway, I could go on whining forever. If you liked it please leave a review. Go read "Dead Man's Hand" that's how you'll know when the next piece of "the Journal" is coming!_


	3. I Could Make You Care

**February 14****th****, 2279**

**14:30**

**Hidden Valley**

Plasma burns are irritating. Knox hated them. Besides the fact that a direct impact on his armor turned the metal as hot as a stove, but God help you if the blob of plasma met flesh. Sizzle, sizzle, melt. Even dodging plasma was annoying. The slow moving' green blobs were easy enough to sidestep or dive out of the way of, but still the superheated air burned the skin as the plasma bolt passed.

And lasers! Lasers were the worst. Scalding, self-cauterizing burns. And the flashing they made when they fired just left white spots in his vision.

Thus there were several groups in the Mojave that Knox was already predisposed to dislike. The Fiends were a bunch of psychopaths, so using energy weapons was just another black mark for them. Similarly the Van Graffs couldn't get much worse in his eyes. But the Brotherhood... The Brotherhood of Steel just had to use energy weapons.

Knox hadn't previously had issues with the armored recluses, but whenever he did business with any of their field teams his eyes were drawn to their weaponry and how annoying it would be to fight them. The energy weapons and of course the power armor.

So when Veronica dropped the bomb on him after two months of working together that she was Brotherhood and that she wanted his help doing something very offensive to them he couldn't help, but be annoyed.

And the Scribe so earnestly wanted to "help" her family. Too bad that required her to go directly against her Elder's wishes. And that required Knox to as well.

Knox pulled his scarf tighter around his face and squinted as the ever present in sand storm of Hidden Valley kicked more dust up into his face. He watched Veronica pull her hood closer as well. Despite the near zero visibility, the Scribe walked with confidence. Which, if she was telling the truth, would make sense. If the Mojave chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel was hiding in Hidden Valley, then as their procurement specialist, Veronica would have made this journey many a time.

"This way," Veronica shouted into his ear to be heard over the howling wind. "We'll be there soon!"

She kept walking past a large boulder. As Knox got closer he could make out graffiti markings on it. On a hunch he rapped a fist on it. As he thought, it was hollow. Something to remember the next time he was coming he through here.

Knox hurried after Veronica before she was lost in the half-light of the Valley. He only had to take a few steps until he was caught up. She'd stopped in front of a heavy steel door in one of the rocky hills scattered about Hidden Valley. All around the door were more graffiti markings. Whoever had hollowed out that rock had been busy.

Veronica glanced at Knox before opening the door and stepping in. Knox followed with only a moment's hesitation. Mercifully the door shut swiftly behind them, sealing them away from the sand storm. Knox pulled his scarf down and took a deep breath before beginning to beat sand and dirt off of his clothes.

Veronica pulled her hood back and began to shake out her hair as well; a small pile of sand slowly formed beneath them on the metal grating.

"You believe me that the Brotherhood is here in Hidden Valley yet?" she asked with a quirky grin.

Knox motioned for her to lead the way down the stairs and answered, "I believed you when you told me. That's called trust."

Veronica gave a short laugh. "Oh yeah," she said sarcastically. "You're Mr. Trusting alright. I barely know anything about you."

"That makes two of us."

She gave him a weird look at that comment, but kept leading the way further into the bunker until they entered a large deserted atrium with a shut door at the end.

"Wow, Veronica. What an amazing empty room you've discovered. I'm amazed the Brotherhood can all fit in here."

"Oh, don't you start," she chided, but still smiled. "Watch this," she instructed. Veronica walked across the room, Knox a few steps behind, and approached an intercom welded into the wall next to the door. She depressed the button and leaned in to say, "I'd like a large Atomic Shake and a double Brahmin burger. And easy on the agave sauce this time."

She leaned back with her arms crossed and waited. Knox looked at the door expectantly. After a moment the speaker crackled in reply with a deep sigh.

"Veronica… we give you a passcode for a reason. _Use it_."

"Oh, you're no fun."

"Veronica," the voice stressed.

"I know where you live Ramos," she threatened. "Open up."

With another tired sigh, the intercom clicked off and the door slid open.

"After you, Knox," Veronica said, waving him forward. "You believe me yet?"

Knox chuckled as he stepped over the threshold. "So far, I've seen an intercom. I'm reserving judgment," he said, looking back over his shoulder before nearly crashing into a fully armored man.

The man was covered in metal, power armor from the ground up. All he was missing was the helmet. The man cast a stern eye over a Knox before glaring at Veronica. "And who is this, Veronica?"

"Friend of mine," she replied cheekily. The man didn't smile. "Ugh, Ramos. You're no fun. I brought him to see the Elder. Real valuable information, world changing stuff. It's all very technical, you might not understand it. Hell, I'm not sure he understands it."

Ramos continued to stare at Veronica impassively. While she seemed unaffected by it, Knox was more than a little uncomfortable. He was now entirely willing to accept Veronica was Brotherhood. The paladin she was back talking to was proof enough.

After a few more moments of uncomfortable silence, Ramos addressed Knox without turning his glare away from Veronica. "Is this true, outsider?"

Knox squashed his discomfort and put on his most charming smile. "Well, I can't speak for the ability to change the world, but Veronica did bring me here to talk with your Elder. She seems to think it's important. From what I know, if she thinks so, you'd do well to trust her."

Ramos snorted and turned to Knox. "I'm Paladin Ramos," he greeted, holding a gauntleted hand out to shake. "I'm head of security for this chapter of the Brotherhood. If you have information for the Elder, _IF_, then I suppose you better give it to him. Don't cause any trouble," he warned thought he message seemed more directed at Veronica than Knox. She seemed unconcerned.

Knox tipped his hat at Ramos, as Veronica started to lead him away further into the bunker, but Ramos held her back.

"Veronica. I do trust you. But whatever it is that you've got to say, make sure it's worth it. Elder McNamara is going to tolerate you forever. Be careful."

Veronica reached up and gently touched Ramos cheek. Knox would have been touched at the tender moment if his stomach wasn't also sinking.

That feeling was immediately justified as Veronica pinched Ramos cheeks and cooed, "Ahhhh, Ramos you do care!"

Knox made a pained grimace as Ramos swatted her hand away and strode back into his office and slammed the door.

Veronica flicked her fingers at the retreating paladin and muttered, "Well, _bye_." She looked at Knox who was looking at her sharply. "Oh, what are you looking at?" she snapped.

"Was that really wise? He seemed to actually be concerned for you." Veronica crossed her arms and let out an annoyed huff. Knox rolled his eyes and poked her in the shoulder. "You've also got a problem. Ramos said you're wearing thin on the Elder's patience. Something you conveniently forgot to mention when you dragged me into this!"

Veronica smacked his hand away and whirled on him. "And just what am I supposed to do about it? Just give up? I can't just walk away from this!" She stepped away from Knox, her arms once more crossed in front of her, and started to walked down the stairs into the bunker.

Knox quickly walked after her and put a hand on her shoulder slowing her down. "I know you just can't give up, Veronica. I just don't want you to fail."

She stopped and leaned against the wall, slowly sliding down until she was seated on the floor. She let out a groan and rubbed her forehead with her hands. "Thank you. I don't say that enough do I? _Thank you_. You're helping me when you don't have to and you're taking it more seriously than me to boot."

She held out a hand for Knox to help her up. He pulled her to her feet and they kept walking. The deeper they got in, the more and more Brotherhood members they began to see. At first Knox thought the harsh stares were directed at him, but he soon gathered that they weren't. The disapproving frowns and suspicious looks were all for Veronica. And she didn't seem bothered at all. She'd wave and give out chipper hellos regardless of how dark the look she received was.

Veronica just smiled and waved.

At least, until they were out of sight. "Sorry about that. Just because I love them doesn't mean some of them aren't assholes," she said to Knox.

"No apology necessary," Knox replied. "Besides… I don't think the cold shoulder was for me."

Veronica stiffened and stopped. "You… saw that?" she asked quietly. Knox nodded. "I should get used to it, I guess," she said morosely. "You lock everyone up underground and they get desperate, they turn on each other. First thing to go is trust."

"This isn't the first time you've tried to end the lockdown," Knox surmised aloud.

Veronica nodded silently in response.

"They don't like it," Knox concluded. "You going against the grain."

"We're the Brotherhood. The Codex is pretty clear. The Elder knows best. And I'm going against the Elder's wishes every time I try to get him to change his ways. That isn't very Brotherhood," she said sadly. Her face hardened. "But they're more than the Brotherhood! They're my family. And I'm not going to give up on them. Even if they all treat me like their idiot, kid sister. It doesn't matter. They won't listen to me? Fine. That's why you're here."

Knox nodded solemnly and said, "Veronica, I'll do my best, but I don't know what sort of outcome you're expecting. Even if you do convince your Elder, I don't think that'll fix everything for you. The damage has been done."

With a sigh, Veronica's shoulders slumped. "I know," she said. "I don't think it's ever gonna be the same for me in here. Knowing no matter what I do, it's gonna end badly for me. But at least I can save them."

Knox rapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a one-armed hug. "You bet we're going to save em. They've got Veronica Santangelo on their side and that's always been more than enough for me."

Veronica gave him a slight squeeze around the waist in return. "Thanks, Knox. If you were a leggy brunette, I'd practically be throwing myself at you right now."

"Way to tarnish the moment," Knox said wryly. "Come on; let's go talk some sense into your Elder."

**February 14****th****, 2279**

**20:45**

**Novac**

"I can't believe it! That… that… that jerk!"

Veronica was pacing back and forth across Knox's bungalow (formerly Jeannie May's) in Novac. She'd already punched a hole in the wall and Knox had confiscated her power fist until she'd calmed down. Judging by how many times she'd gone back and forth across the small building, she was no closer to being calm.

"Veronica…"

"He's just so- so- So infuriating!"

"Veronica!"

Veronica paused midstride and looked over at Knox. He was seated at the table and was cleaning his guns. "Calm down," he instructed. He pushed the remaining chair out with his foot and pointed at it. Veronica begrudgingly sat down at it, but continued frowning. "Have you ever considered that he might be right?" Knox asked.

"Have you ever considered he might be senile?" Veronica hissed at him. That and the accompanying glare made Knox hold his hands up in peace.

"Just making sure you consider all angles."

"I'm the only one considering all the angles!" she protested. "McNamara is too stuck in the past, in tradition. He's unwilling to even think of going outside the Codex. The Brotherhood's strategy for survival worked back when we had a larger force, and no organized enemies. We're a tiny splinter from a shrinking group. We don't take on new members. But we're still picking fights with the big boys."

"The NCR."

Veronica nodded angrily. "Exactly. The NCR destroyed us at HELIOS One and we're still acting like we can go against them again and survive. We barely survived last time! I just wish the Elder could see it! I'd slap him around, but he stood at my parent's wedding, so he's got that."

Knox kept on cleaning his guns and letting Veronica vent, only chipping in when necessary. "He's trying to save his people the only way he knows how. You're lucky that you've got the outside perspective. He doesn't have it."

"I know that he's trying to do what's right," Veronica admitted, deflating slightly.

"Good intentions don't justify marching the Brotherhood to its death."

Veronica nodded emphatically. "_Exactly_. But it does make it easier to forgive him. He's just misguided."

"Well, then maybe we need to guide him," Knox suggested.

Veronica rolled her eyes and slumped in her chair. "That's what I've been trying to do for months! You've seen how well that works. It just got my entire family pissed at me."

"_You've_ been trying. That's the problem." Veronica looked hurt at Knox's words. "And you've done your damned best," Knox added, reaching across the table and putting a hand on Veronica's arm. "Maybe it's time for something else to guide him. You keep saying he's following the Codex, anything there we can use?"

Veronica's frown deepened thoughtfully. "McNamara is a stubborn old man, but he won't go against the Codex. If he sees some indisputable sign we're on the wrong course, he won't ignore it. I don't know, I don't know," she fretted. "We'd need something that shows the Brotherhood will fail. Or that it can do better a different way."

"And?" Knox prompted.

"The only thing that'd get his attention is technology." Veronica buried her face in her hands. "Oh man. Father Elijah was right."

Knox paused in his cleaning and looked at her. "Father Elijah?"

"Our Elder before McNamara. He had a nose for recovering lost technology. He'd send Scribes out into the desert chasing whatever leads he found." She paused for a moment, thinking. "There were a few he only trusted me with. I can think of at least one that'd prove my point, if it still exists."

"You don't sound that happy about it."

Veronica scowled at him. Knox was too damned perceptive. "I'm not. There's a reason Elijah was pushed out of the Brotherhood beyond just looking to make new technology. He… had ideas that raised ethical concerns. He was looking for weapons. Really bad weapons. Misguided as the Brotherhood is, we are still trying to protect people in our own fucked up way. Elijah went against that. The Elders kicked him out."

Knox set his disassembled gun down and leaned his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers under his chin. 'That doesn't sound like the end of it. Who was this Father Elijah to you?"

Fuck you, Knox. Veronica swallowed and braced herself. This conversation would be… unpleasant. "I would say he was my tutor, but that doesn't cover it." Veronica got to her feet and wandered over to the hole she'd punched in the wall. She observed it while thoughtfully chewing on her knuckle. "After my parents passed, he looked after me. The whole Brotherhood brought me up, really, but he made sure of it. I never had a grandfather – not that I knew, anyway – but Elijah was in some ways what I'd imagine a grandfather to be."

Veronica still had her back to Knox, but he could tell she was tense. "What happened?" he asked quietly.

Veronica turned around to look at him; her eyes were wet with tears. "You know that I like girls, right?" Knox nodded. "Well, the Brotherhood isn't too hot on that idea. Probably has something to do with the fact that we're dying out. Well, my parents, the Elder, pretty much everyone disapproved when I started dating a scribe. Father Elijah was the only one who never openly said anything. I could tell he didn't like it, but he didn't push it. I- I…" Veronica got slightly choked up. "I _loved_ him for that. He might've disapproved, but he let me be me. Then she left. Later I found out she was transferred." Knox didn't have to ask who 'she' was.

Veronica came back to the table and collapsed into her chair once more. "Only an Elder has the authority to transfer personnel. I asked him and he told me he didn't do it. He_ said_ he had no idea. I-… I guess I didn't trust him. I looked further into it. I… hacked my way into the transfer files. His authorization code was on it. He took her from me. And then he _lied_ to my face about it." Veronica let out an angry gust of air. "And then he disappeared… Bastard."

"And now we're going to use his notes to save the Brotherhood. Is that poetic?" Knox asked.

"Only if it works."

Knox started reassembling his guns. "Then let's make it work. Hit me with the ideas."

Veronica swallowed thickly and nodded. She reached over to her bag and pulled out a tablet-like device and started attaching a memory unit to it. "This is a copy of the data hidden on one of Elijah's terminals. I can think of three things on it immediately that would work." She fumbled on the screen of the tablet before spinning it around to show Knox. Displayed on it looked to be some sort of space age pistol.

"And that is?"

"A pulse gun." Catching the look on Knox's face, she elaborated, "Electromagnetic weapon from before the Great War. Experimental. It never saw mass production. But they were building it as a countermeasure to power armor, which they feared the Chinese were developing. Supposedly a prototype was being housed at Nellis. Imagine what it could do to the Brotherhood. We'd be on equal footing with any idiot with a gun."

Knox gave a low whistle of admiration through his teeth. "That would be one hell of a show and tell for McNamara."

"_And_ you can get us into Nellis," Veronica said eagerly.

"True…"

"I'm sensing a 'but'."

"_But_ I feel like bringing the Brotherhood's brand new Achilles heel before him might not be the best idea. Might just reinforce the desire to hide away."

Veronica frowned again. The pulse gun had been a wonderful idea and wouldn't have been impossible for them to get. Nellis was an open door to Knox. She blew angry air out of her nose and went back to her tablet. After scrolling through several more pages of notes she came to the next item on the list. "The rangefinder could be promising."

Knox nodded. "Tell me about the rangefinder."

"It's a targeting device for some kind of doomsday weapon based at HELIOS One. It was lost some time after the War," she replied, flipping through a couple more pages of data to show Knox. She looked up from the tablet and said, "We held HELIOS One for a time. Lost a lot of people defending it. Too many. All for this weapon they never got working. Even if it did work, it'd be under NCR control now. So it'd either prove our goals are wrong or we're incapable of pursuing them."

Veronica glanced away from her data pad to see Knox stroking his chin thoughtfully. "You're about to say 'but' again, aren't you?"

"I am," Knox admitted, watching Veronica scowl angrily. "As appealing as a doomsday weapon sounds, I'm not eager to have it in either the NCR's or the Brotherhood's hands. Sorry, but I don't trust either group enough. The NCR can't get HELIOS One working with Mr. Fantastic there."

"Who's Mr. Fantastic?" Veronica asked.

"Don't ask," Knox cut her off. "He's the moron in charge there, and I mean moron. With him they're stuck. But if we bring this rangefinder to the Brotherhood, well two outcomes: the Brotherhood either gets it working and takes out the NCR there, or they don't and the NCR finishes what they started. I don't like either option."

As Knox said this, Veronica couldn't help, but notice that he'd made a note in his journal about both technologies.

"Next," he said, snapping her attention away from his writing.

"We're running out of options, Knox," Veronica warned. "I've got one last idea. There's rumor of this farming technology."

"Farming technology?"

"More or less. Supposedly it's a vegetation enhancer. The NCR has a science branch headquartered at McCarran airport. Guess they found something." She paused for a moment before shrugging. "Guess somebody wasn't very good at keeping secrets, either. We'd never pursue it because it's not a weapon. But self-sufficiency is fundamental to us. If it works they'd see the value of an alternate course."

"Well then, we should go after the vegetation technology," Knox announced. He began to flip through his journal, looking for something.

"Okay," Veronica agreed hesitantly. "What better way to persuade them than to give them a taste of what they stand to gain, right?" She loaded up more notes on the vegetation enhancer and said, "Maybe the best place to start is to see what we can find out directly from the NCR. Let's head to their OSI office at McCarran."

Knox shook his head. "Been there, done that." He flipped his journal around, finally having found the page he was looking for and slid it across to Veronica. She looked at the page in front of her, eyes wide.

"What's Vault 22?"

**February 16****th****, 2279**

**17:00**

**Hidden Valley**

**BoS Bunker**

"Veronica," Elder McNamara greeted tersely. "I hope you're not here to waste more of my time."

The Elder was seated at his desk, above the rest of the room, looking down at them. Veronica calmly walked right up to him.

"We'll know in a second. I wanted to talk you."

McNamara waved a hand at her dismissively. "I've given you plenty of chances to speak, Veronica. Those conversations were of little importance. I doubt this one will be important either."

"Yes, goddamn it, it is," Veronica snapped back at him. "But you're going to hear me out this time."

With his eyes narrowed, McNamara silently appraised Veronica and her guest. She'd brought the outsider with her again, but this time he wasn't speaking. It was all Veronica. Perhaps this time was different. Veronica was certainly acting different. Perhaps she did have something of consequence. Or perhaps she was simply sensing that his patience was at an end for her. He nodded and allowed her to continue.

"The things I've seen now. Other groups succeeding where we fail. It's not too late for us!"

The Elder shook his head. "Veronica, we've been over this. The Codex is clear on the course we should take."

"Waiting in a hole for everyone else to die," Veronica mumbled derisively.

"Hold your tongue, girl!" the Elder shouted. "The Codex is-"

"The Codex is a dead end for us!" Veronica interrupted, her voice raising in volume to match the Elder's. "Right here, I have a disk that has secrets to breeding plants that can thrive in the Wasteland." Veronica fished the disk out of her robes. "Think about it! No more trading guns for food. Total self-sufficiency. It's what we always wanted."

"Self-sufficiency is a goal," McNamara admitted. "But I fail to see how this will change anyone's view of us. That is what you're after right? It won't work."

"Yes it will," Veronica pressed. "If we feed people, they'll support us. They'll _join_ us!"

McNamara seemed to be considering it. He really did. But then he shook his head.

"But-" Veronica protested until McNamara held up a hand, silencing her.

"No more, Veronica. My leniency is at an end."

Tears began to fall from Veronica's eyes. Knox watched them land on the floor form where he stood along the wall. "Give it a chance," she pleaded. "For me. I can't stay here and watch us waste away!" The raw emotion in her voice tore at Knox's chest, but the Elder was immovable.

"No," he intoned quietly. "No. My decision is final."

Veronica's next words were so quiet that Knox nearly did not hear them.

"We'll die out."

The Elder looked at her sadly. "I'm sorry that you feel that way, Veronica, but this has gone on long enough. And I cannot permit it to go on any longer." His eyes flicked to the knights flanking the doors. "Escort them out."

Knox put up no resistance to the armored escorts, but Veronica struggled as metal hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her away towards the door.

"What!? You're throwing me out? You're banishing me!?" she cried, the fear tearing at her voice.

McNamara shook his head. "I am not banishing you, Veronica. You are still welcome here. But only as a Brotherhood Scribe. If you cannot put aside these foolish ideas, then… then you are no longer welcome here."

Veronica's face fell as the choice was left to her. Leave and watch her family die, or stay and watch her family die. That was no choice at all. Without a fight, Veronica allowed herself to be silently led out of the Elder's office and back to the surface, her head held high and dry, face frozen.

It was only when Knox and her were back out and the door shut behind them that she spoke again.

"Bunch of close minded BULL-SHIT!" she screamed, slamming a fist into the door.

Knox reached a hand out for her, but she slapped it angrily away. "Let's go," she growled. "I've wasted enough of our time here." She made to step past him, but Knox caught her wrist and pulled her back.

"Veronica."

She yanked her wrist away as tears began to freely fall from her face once more, spattering into the dirt. Knox caught hold of her and wrapped her into a hug. The sun was setting behind them as the Hidden Valley sand storm whipped at their clothes.

Neither noticed as Knox just held Veronica as she cried, all her words had left her and he didn't know the words to say to her.

There were no words to say.


	4. Lily and Leo

**February 26****th****, 2779**

**11:00**

**South Vegas Ruins**

For a gang of chemmed up psychos, the Fiends had been of little trouble for Knox. The NCR kept them away from the Vegas walls with several checkpoints and the occasional ranger removing their heads with an overpowered rifle, and Motor-Runner had some managed to keep his people in line enough that they didn't collectively attack said checkpoints and occasional ranger.

Sure the odd band of Fiends would get high and run around naked, screaming obscenities, and firing their energy weapons off, but for the Courier and his companions it was more of an eccentric display than an actual threat.

Knox had figured out long ago that he could walk through the South Vegas Ruins perfectly safely if he walked slowly and carefully. Failing that, he'd also discovered that jumping inside of a Brahmin corpse, rolling around, and then screaming at the top of his lungs also served as functional camouflage.

So when Lily had asked him to take a walk with her and they'd made their way towards Vault 3 and the Fiends, he hadn't given it any particular thought. The walk was relaxing in fact. They'd even run into Boone who had been collecting a pension from Camp McCarran and was on his way back to the Strip.

While Boone did not particularly like Lily (it was a watered down dislike from the NCR's collective hatred of super mutants), he had simply tagged along with them quietly.

And then suddenly the entire world was on fire.

The Courier may have been content to let the Fiends be until they were a real problem, the NCR _wasn't_. At some point along the knotted rope of incompetents known as the NCR chain of command, someone somewhere had decided that a push into Fiend territory was overdue. And it was just Knox's that Lily's walking path had taken them right through the NCR's ambush.

The ambush had consisted of several burnt out cars being rigged to blow as soon as a group of Fiends walked past. The soldiers lying in wait would then rush in and mop up any survivors. Instead of the Fiends walking through it just happened to be Lily.

Knox had enough time to see the Nightkin have an exploded car hulk slam into her, launching her backwards and through the wall of the Poseidon Gas Station. Then he too was launched backwards by the force of the blast.

He flew through the air before skidding along the cement and rolling head over heels until he came to a stop against a pile of rubble.

"Uuuunnnngggggg…" he groaned, trying to push himself to his feet. He managed to rise to one knee unsteadily, blinking his eyes trying to clear the black spots in his vision and wishing the ringing in his ears would go away.

A pair of tan combat boots stomped into his vision. He was almost prepared to ask Boone for a hand up when he felt the barrel of a rifle pushing into the side of his head. His eyes flicked up from the boots and along the standard issue pants to see just another NCR soldier.

Not Boone.

Good. He wouldn't feel bad about this then.

Before Knox could even think about striking the weapon away, however, the soldier was lifted to his feet and held aloft by a great blue hand palming his head.

Lily, white dust from the building she'd just crashed through adorning her body, threw the soldier away. Knox watched as the man collided with several of his compatriots and knocked them all to the ground.

"Dearie!? Are you alright?" Lily growled to him as she helped him to his feet.

Knox gave her a blank look. For all the moving her mouth was doing, she wasn't making much noise. That damned ringing was still loud though. Knox tentatively touched a hand to his ear. His glove came back bloody. Wonderful. He could look forward to one of Arcade's lectures later.

He opened to his mouth to say something to Lily, but was startled by a hand suddenly alighting on his shoulder. Knox jumped and spun around, his pistol already drawn. Boone eyes widened behind his sunglasses and he jerked his hand away.

*_what the hell is wrong with you*_

Okay, he could still read Boone's lips. Lily's on the other hand… her stretched and contorted face made that tough.

"Eardrums are blown out," Knox answered to Boone.

*_you're shouting*_

Knox shook his head in irritation and gave the sniper the finger. The mild amusement flitting around the stoic man's face just served to annoy him more.

"Bigger problem's than that," Knox said pointing at the soldiers Lily had taken out. They were getting to their feet and along with the rest of the unit were approaching the trio. And they looked none too happy.

"None of you so much as move!" one of the soldiers, their sergeant, shouted at them. "You twitch and we shoot!"

Knox looked to Boone, the sergeant's mouth had been moving too fast.

*_don't move_*

He nodded in understanding and held his hands up. Boone followed suit. Lily just stood behind them, seemingly unaware of the mounting tensions.

The soldiers approached in a loose semi-circle around them, guns trained. The sergeant stomped forward, a service rifle cradled in his arms. "You're not Fiends, so who the fuck are you? Drug dealers?" he growled at them.

Knox grimaced in frustration at only catching half the conversation. Anytime someone turned away from him, he lost track of what the hell was being discussed.

"Definitely not," answered Boone. "I'm 1st Recon."

The sergeant glanced at the red beret and nodded. Without looking away from Boone, he asked, "And you?" to Knox.

With no reply forthcoming, Boone elbowed Knox trying to get a reaction from him.

"We're not Fiends!" he shouted.

*_already established tell him who you are*_

"Oh! I'm a Courier!"

*_stop shouting*_

Knox scowled at Boone as the sergeant stepped back to mull over what he was just told. The ringing in his ears was steadily lessening, but that didn't make any easier to judge his own volume.

As the sergeant conversed with his fellow soldiers and Knox's hearing returned, Knox began to notice something other than the ringing. A quiet argument was going on behind him.

"No, Leo, not now."

…

"Leo! I said stop it!"

…

"LEO!"

The last word was shouted and accompanied by a large blue arm knocking Boone and Knox flying to the side. For the second time, Knox skidded across the roadside as Lily stood roaring and holding her head in her hands.

The soldiers' semi-circle began to tighten around the now howling Nightkin. Slowly they began to advance step by step unsure of how to proceed. They'd rarely dealt with a visible Nightkin. Their caution ultimately doomed them.

The continuous roar dropped off to a low growl as Lily cast her head side to side. The sergeant opened his mouth to shout something at her, but his words died in his throat as she whipped her Vertibird blade off her back in a wide arc, neatly bisecting each and every one of the soldiers at the waist.

Knox covered his head as a torso landed on top of him. He pushed the half-soldier off of himself with a grimace and staggered to his feet. Boone silently stood next to him his rifle trained on Lily.

The Nightkin was panting, her shoulders heaving, her head once more weaving from side to side. The vertibird blade was scratching the ground every time she let out a breath. Knox watched her warily, but didn't draw his own weapon. Without looking away from her he motioned for Boone to lower his rifle a hair. Boone's ever present frown deepened, but he did it.

"Lily?" Knox asked softly, trying not to spook her.

The super mutant didn't respond. Knox swallowed. That didn't bode well.

"Leo?" he tried again.

The Nightkin stiffened, her head looking to the side. She slowly rotated until her goggled eyes were locked on Boone and Knox. A very un-grandmotherly chuckle floated out of her throat. She took one slow step towards them. Then another. Another. Her pace was picking up and she hefted the vertibird blade onto her shoulder. Now Know drew his pistols, praying that Lily would snap out of whatever this was.

It was at that moment the Fiends decided to show up. Hooting and screaming the raiders seemed to pour out of every crack in the walls of the South Vegas Ruins. Boone started sighting up on them, but Knox tackled him to the ground as Lily's vertibird blade slammed into the ground they'd just vacated.

"Move," he shouted into the sniper's ear as he nervously looked over his shoulder and watched Lily and Leo engage the Fiends.

The chem-addicts screams changed from bloodthirsty to terrified as the super mutant carved a bloody swath through them. The vertibird blade would swing wide catching any Fiend close enough in its deadly embrace. The Fiends were by no means taking this attack lying down, but everything they through at Lily and Leo was shrugged off.

Knox and Boone ducked behind a half-destroyed wall and took cover from the skirmish.

"What the hell is going on with her?" Boone hissed, nervously checking and rechecking if his rifle was loaded.

"I'm not- I'm not sure," Knox rushed out. "I've heard her mention Leo, but I've never seen him have this active of a presence before. He's her voice." Boone gave him a confused look and he tried to clarify. "Schizophrenia. He's a delusion. He tries to convince her to kill, be bloodthirsty, _that_." He gestured beyond the wall towards the sound of carnage.

"So this is some sort of psychotic break?"

"I… yeah? Fuck! I don't know! Wait…" Knox held a finger to his lips. "No more screaming." Knox hopped to his feet from his kneeling position and crept to the edge of the wall. He crept forward, peaking his head around the edge. Rivers of blood ran along the former NCR ambush sight.

And no Lily.

"Ah, piss," Knox shouted, jumping to a running head start, sliding in the loose gravel and blood. "She's headed for Westside!" Knox screamed, taking off at a sprint after her. With only a moment's hesitation, Boone took off following.

"And just what are we supposed to do? I'm guessing killing her is off the table," he asked as he caught up to Knox.

"Yes. Killing her is off the table. I mean fuck, I'm not even sure how we'd go about it at this point. She's a giant psychotic tank at the moment."

Boone sighed. "I miss Grandma Lily."

Knox gave a bitter laugh and picked up the pace. "And it only took a murderous spree to get you to see she's not so bad. How about that?"

As they approached Freeside, Knox and Boone lost sight of Lily as she ducked into the walls and alleys of the small town. However, while losing sight, they didn't lose Lily. They just had to follow the screaming. As the two of them ran through the outskirts of town, Knox was pleasantly surprised to see buildings destroyed and general carnage, he didn't see any bodies. Plenty of people hiding, but no corpses. He didn't quite allow himself the hope that Lily was coming out of her psychotic break, but he didn't discount the possibility. In the past when she'd gotten particularly ornery (nothing like this) she usually calmed down once she was away from all the violence. The problem here was that being in this close of proximity to New Vegas made it very difficult to get Lily away from the violence as the residents in the surrounding areas had the tendency to attack rampaging super mutants.

Knox just thanked his luck that Westside didn't have a standing militia. They had…

Mean Sonofabitch.

The sparks of a plan began to fly through Knox's mind. The lightbulb going off was evident on his face and Boone noticed. "You figure something out?"

"I may have," he allowed himself to admit before stopping dead as Lily's vertibird blade slammed blade first into the wall directly in front of him. He slid to a stop, falling over onto his behind. He glanced towards the direction the sword had come from.

Mean Sonofabitch was in the Westside market square grappling with Lily.

Well, this half-formed plan was turning out wonderfully. Step one was to find Mean Sonofabitch. Now he just had to think of a step two.

While strategies and half-baked ideas ran through his brain, Lily and Mean Sonofabitch continued to wrestle in the square. Mean Sonofabitch outweighed Lily by at least 40 kilos, but he was suffering from the fact that he wasn't trying to hurt Lily, only stop her. Lily did not have this problem as she sunk her teeth into his arm and drove a fist into his unarmored sides. Mean Sonofabitch didn't show any outward signs of discomfort, but Knox knew that had to have hurt. That punch would have gone clean through a non-super mutant.

However, something Knox was forgetting and Mean Sonofabitch as well, was that the Nightkin were once the Master's elite guard. While they were now delusional and less than inclined to fight any more creatively than crushing their opponents, the knowledge was still floating around in their giant, blue heads. That meant it was in Lily's head.

And that meant Leo knew it too.

Lily wrenched Mean Sonofabitch's arms to his sides before tucking her head to her chin and tackling him backward. With a roar of effort she lifted him clean off of his feet and hurled him backwards. Knox and Boone dove out of the way as the super mutant crashed into a table full of produce on the street.

Mean Sonofabitch sat up with a growl of his own and began plucking carrots of his armor. As he was doing so, he noticed Knox for the first time. His eyes flicked from the Courier, to the rampaging Lily, and back. The connection between the two was not lost.

"Wah the fuh is goen on?" he asked through his mangled mouth.

Boone stared at him in confusion, but Knox managed to decipher the jumble of vowels. "She's lost it," he said. Mean Sonofabitch nodded and started to reach for the Super-sledge strapped to his back. "WAIT!" Knox shouted throwing his body on the mutant's arm and keeping the weapon holstered. "She's not gone, though! We can still get through to her."

"How?" Boone and Mean Sonofabitch asked at the same time.

"I have a plan," Knox shouted at them as he dashed away. "Just keep her distracted."

Mean Sonofabitch huffed unhappily through his nose, but got to his feet as the Courier disappeared. Cautiously he approached Lily again. Boone warily followed behind the big, green mutant.

"Distract her," he muttered. "Fucking wonderful." As Mean Sonofabitch went in low, grabbing Lily around the waist and slamming her into a nearby building, Boone sighted up on her through his rifle scope. "Sorry about this, Lily," he apologized before firing to quick shots in succession. Both bullets slid across Lily's head just above either eye. Not largely damaging, but potentially blinding as the blood began to run over her goggles, effectively obscuring her vision.

Lily hammered Mean Sonofabitch in the back with her elbows, driving him to the ground. She stepped on his back preventing him from getting up and ran at Boone. The sniper dove out of her way and rolled back into a firing position, trying to find more non-vital targets for him to hit. He felt the thundering of footsteps as Mean Sonofabitch got back to his feet to back him up.

High above them on the rooftops of Westside, Knox got ready for his play. There were two tings floating around Lily's mind. Leo and her grandchildren. Of the two, Lily's grandkids were much more important. She loved to talk about the, she loved thinking about them, and she loved listening to the holotape she had of them. The holotape that was clipped to her belt. This was a gamble, but Knox didn't have any other ideas at this point. He _hoped_ that playing the tape would snap Lily out her funk. However, to even test that theory he had to get the holotape.

And that led to the roofs.

He watched as everything unfurled beneath him. Mean Sonofabitch was holding Lily back from trying to eat Boone's head. The sniper was held aloft from the ground, Lily's blue hand wrapped around his throat.

Well, now was as good a time as any.

Knox leapt of the roof, allowing gravity to take him crashing down into the mess. He landed on Lily's head, sending her and everyone else toppling to the ground. Knox gasped at the heavy impact, but didn't allow it to distract him. He struggled within the wildly swinging mass of limbs and wrapped his hands around the holotape, ripping it from Lily's belt. Suddenly he was pulled high into the air. Lily had thrown Boone and Mean Sonofabitch clean off and was now growling viciously at Knox who was holding by the shirt.

"Hey there, Lily!" Knox shouted as he held the holotape up in front of her face and depressing its play button. Simultaneously he was scrunching his face up and away, still expecting a blow to the head. But it never came.

He slowly blinked and looked back to Lily.

"Grandma! It's Grandma!" the tape began to play.

"Jimmy… Becky…" Lily gasped, her raspy voice soft and light. She released Knox and fell forward onto her knees, still focused on the tape.

"We love you, Grandma!"

"I- I love you too, dearies."

Lily's eyes fluttered shut beneath her goggles and she fell forwards, face first into the dust.

Knox, Boone, and Mean Sonofabitch got to their feet and cautiously approached, but Lily didn't move. She was completely unconscious.

**February 26****th****, 2779**

**18:30**

**The Lucky 38**

Knox and Boone sat in the casino having a drink together. Shortly after getting back to the hotel, Knox had found the sniper and offered up some expensive booze he'd come across as thanks. After finding some glasses, they'd settled down and decided to drink it.

Across the casino floor, Lily was lying on her side on the ground, heavy chains binding her arms and legs. Veronica was perched on top of her, reading aloud from a magazine. Lily was listening attentively.

As soon as she'd woken up, she'd asked to be restrained until "that nice, blonde doctor could make sure everything was okay." Knox had acquiesced, bound her, and summoned Arcade. The Followers doctor had hurried over and had quickly discerned the cause for Lily's mental break.

She'd only been taking half-doses of the medicine prescribed to her at Jacob's town.

At first Knox had been angry. Lily had always been not only subject zero in any of Doctor Henry's experiments, but she was also the perfect patient. She did _everything_ required of her. To find out she'd been doing half-doses was unsettling. And so Knox had been angry, at least, until she'd told him why.

"I take my medicine, dearie, and it shuts Leo up. Can't hear him at all with it. I can think straight, but… but I can't hear them either."

"Who?" Knox had asked.

"My grandchildren. Becky… Jimmy… The medicine makes them go fuzzy. I- I don't want to forget them."

Knox had been shocked to hear that and had immediately returned to his drink with Boone. The Courier had lapsed into a pensive silence which was okay with the sniper. Knox was too often too verbose for his tastes. However, this silence was definitely not a comfortable one. He could tell Knox was trying to solve a seemingly unsolvable problem.

Lily goes full dose and forgets her grandchildren.

Lily goes half dose and can remember her grandkids, but has to suffer Leo.

Lily stops taking her medicine, remembers her kids, but Leo can take over.

Knox groaned. There was no good choice. He set his drink down on the table a little harder than necessary and slid his chair back, getting to his feet.

"Hop off, Veronica," he instructed as he approached Lily. "I need to have a chat with Lily." Veronica nodded and folded up her magazine, quickly disappearing up the elevator.

Knox knelt down and began unlocking all the locks on the chains. "I don't know what to do, Lily," he admitted. "There's no perfect solution here. I don't want you to lose your grandkids, but I don't want to lose you either."

"Listen, dearie, I can take my medicine. It's al-" Lily started to say before Knox cut her off.

"No. You listen," he instructed holding her broad jaw in his hand, staring deeply into her red goggled. "You and I are going to take a trip Jacobstown. We're going to see Doctor Henry and find out if there's some other medicine or something. In case there isn't, you're going to start telling me _everything_ about your grandkids. I won't let you forget." He sighed and released her face from his hold. "Until then, keep taking half-doses."

Mimicking Knox's motion from a moment ago, Lily reached up and gently pinched Knox's chin between her thumb and forefinger, keeping him from ending the conversation and walking away.

"You're too good to me, dearie," she grumbled, but Knox could tell she was happy. "You do so much for me. But now I need you to do one more thing. _Do not worry about me_."

Knox playfully knocked her hand away with a smile. "Sorry, Lily. The day I stop worrying about my grandma is the day I die!" Before she could protest he ducked back and quickly vanished into the elevator.

Lily grumbled for a moment before she looked at Boone.

"He's such a good boy, isn't he?"


	5. The Whiskey Rose Part 2

_This was a shorter bit, but so heavy on the emotion I had to expand it a little. You've seen Knox and Cass get together and you've seen the aftermath. Here's how it all fell out._

**March 2****nd****, 2279**

**22:00**

**The Crimson Caravan Company**

Work was long for Alice McLafferty. Day in and day out she signed order forms, wrote contracts, and checked schedules to make sure the caravan machine of the Crimson Caravan Company was well oiled and running for the Mojave.

Sure she heard her people complain. She understood that she rode them hard, but that was just business. It was her job to make sure that business was good. And it was. Profits were up, costs were down, and the company had several new and very lucrative ventures set up.

McLafferty recognized her own skill and how it impacted the Crimson Caravan Company, but she wasn't so shallow that she would also recognize the outside hand interfering.

That Courier was damned helpful.

And to think he'd walked into her office with Cassidy as well. As any woman worthy of the accolades Alice McLafferty had, she'd masked her satisfaction as delight when Cassidy had sold her the rights to Cassidy Caravans. While Alice never doubted herself, she was still immensely pleased to see a plan come together.

So burning Cassidy's caravan to the ground _had_ been the right call.

It was just good business.

And so it had also turned out to be good business to keep the Courier around and on payroll. He'd done more than any of her other employees. Of course she had originally just hired him to deliver an invoice to Camp McCarran, he was a Courier after all, but after that he'd continued to prove useful. Mere hours after she'd tasked him to make it so, Henry Jamison walked in and submitted his resignation. Then he'd surprised her once more by acquiring the Gun Runners' manufacturing plans. Those would be _very_ valuable. The Crimson Caravan Company was one of California's oldest businesses. The Gun Runners were the other. With those plans McLafferty could send the Gun Runners to an early grave. All thanks to the Courier.

However, his track record didn't extend to his business acumen. When she'd sent him after the bottle cap press, he'd destroyed it without a second thought. Any self-respecting business man would have at least hesitated. A true viper would have tried to go behind her back.

But she doubted that the Courier was one to go behind backs. After all, he still hung around Cassidy and neither were the wiser that McLafferty had a hand in the destruction of Cassidy Caravans. No the man wasn't duplicitous.

Closing the file she'd been working on, Alice McLafferty rubbed her tired eyes and checked her clock. 10PM. More than a full day's work, she decided. No need to keep herself up until all hours tonight. Any work she didn't get done tonight… well, maybe she'd just see how good the Courier was at paperwork.

Alice laughed at that thought as she exited her office. It felt good to be in high spirits after a long day. As she locked the door, she failed to hear the footsteps behind her. Her spirits were too high to care about something like that.

Because business was good.

**March 3****rd****, 2279**

**02:00**

**The Silver Rush**

Gloria Van Graff was having trouble sleeping. Most would guess it would be due to internal conflict, seeing as Gloria was one of the most nefarious business owners in the Mojave. But no. Gloria's conscience was clean. If Gloria even had one that is.

No her irritation was almost entirely selfish. The sheets were too scratchy. She'd have to send someone out to find new ones for her. Until then other means would have to be sought out. Without rising, Gloria cast an eye about the room. The only bottle of booze she could see was not only across the room, but empty. Gloria pouted at it. Now how was that fair?

Guess she'd just have to do something herself. And Gloria _hated_ to have to do things herself. That's what she had underlings for. She could plan and plan and plan, but as soon as she was required to lift a finger, the plan would crumble. That's what Jean Baptiste was for. Though she supposed that it would be indecent for Jean-Baptiste to do this. Gloria's hand slid down her stomach and past the waistband of her pajama pants and began to run up and down.

Oh, how she loathed doing things herself.

She needed someone to do things for her. Someone like that Courier. He'd stumbled in one day, cast a critical look over their merchandise, and then asked for work. Gloria had very nearly denied him as well, but then the plan had sprung up in her mind. That Cassidy woman was still a loose end and she couldn't very well have someone in the family deal with it. That was far too easily traced. And Gloria was not in charge because she was stupid.

So she'd hired the Courier. To her bewilderment he'd been more than useful. She had little doubt that he could guard a door, but then he'd gone and stopped a bomb. A bomb that could have very well killed her. Not that she'd ever thank him. She was the one to hire him after all. But still.

He'd proved to be less than squeamish as well. The Courier had willing dealt with the Legion for her. That's when she'd started thinking he was most definitely the man to solve her Cassidy problem.

The family had asked to make sure she solved the problem permanently, that she, Gloria, personally deal with Cassidy. They'd just have to settle for Gloria at least watching it. She'd instructed the Courier to bring Cassidy to her on the morrow. And when Cassidy was in front of her, she'd have Jean Baptiste liquefy her, just like she'd had him burn her caravan.

She wasn't very well going to do it herself.

Her hand sped up in its ministrations. Oh, how she wished she had someone else to do it for her. Perhaps that Courier. He was certainly attractive enough. And he followed orders well. Just the sort of man Gloria needed in her life. She'd originally planned on having Jean-Baptiste turn him into a puddle along with Cassidy, but here she was, being forced to do something for herself, _to herself_, and now that plan was crumbling.

_She hated doing things herself_.

So the Courier would live on. So he could do things for her.

Gloria's moaning masked the sound of her door opening.

Oh, yes, she'd definitely have to get him to do things for her. She wasn't going to do them herself.

**March 4****th****, 2279**

**17:00**

**The Lucky 38**

Cass sat quietly in a chair in the empty dining hall of the Lucky 38. Moments ago it had been packed with people. Veronica had been chattering away to Raul who would occasionally grumble a reply. Arcade sat listening and sipping from a glass of wine, his notes scattered across the table in front of him. Even Lily had left her room to come down and be social.

But now everyone had left. They'd all hurried out as soon as he'd gotten back. And now it was just Cass all alone, sitting and staring at the man standing in the doorway.

Knox was always an easy going man. Even when short tempered his anger was by no means a fearsome thing. If anything it was off-putting simply because he was angry and that was unusual. So, now having Knox stare at her, his shoulders shaking and his fists clenched with rage, Cass felt a shiver of fear run down her spine.

"What did you do?"

Cass said nothing. She just turned her head to the side, unable to look at him.

"WHAT DID YOU DO?" Knox shouted at her. He still hadn't taken a step from the entrance of the room. He stood covered in the dirt and dust of the road, eyes focused on her.

Cass opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Her throat clenched painfully. Everything had been so nice; she had enjoyed a meal with her friends. Friends she'd never have met if not for Knox. She had pretended that everything was normal and everything was better than it had always been. She pretended that she hadn't gone and messed it all up again. Just like she always did.

She had returned to the same cycle she'd been stuck in for her entire life. Build something new and as soon as everything became too good, too real, just drink it all away. Just drink it away instead of fighting for it.

Then Knox had come along and pulled her out of that twisted routine. He may have dragged her out kicking and screaming, but he still did it. And everything had been better. Maybe that's why Cass had been so woefully unprepared for hardship. As soon as Knox had come into her life everything had immediately been so good. But at the first sign of trouble, she'd run.

Cass watched as Knox slowly crossed the room and sat across from the table she was seated at. It felt like they were strangers. Knox was keeping himself removed from her. This wasn't how they were. This wasn't how lovers acted.

But they weren't lovers. Not anymore. Cass had doused that relationship in whiskey and then lit a match and now she had to watch it go up in flames. She hadn't thought it would hurt so much. But it had always hurt when she'd burned herself. This time should be no different. She just wished she couldn't see the hurt in Knox's eyes. It was there, buried behind the anger. Cass had never given a damn about anyone else. She looked out for herself. What changed?

She knew. What had changed was someone else had decided to look out for her. Knox had decided to take care of her. For the first time in her life someone else had taken the burden. And that's why it hurt so much to see him in pain.

"Why?" he asked softly, his voice a hoarse whisper. "Why would you do it?"

Again Cass didn't answer. Knox's eye fell to the bottle of whiskey sitting in front of Cass. Cass felt her soul shatter at the disgust written plainly across his features. Features she'd kissed goodnight for so long. Something she'd never get to do again.

"I… I don't know what to say," Cass mumbled. "I- I can't…" Cass trailed off. She'd been about to say 'feel'. Her eyes looked onto the bottle of whiskey and her fingers twitched, but she kept her hands firmly clasped in her lap. If she took a drink now, in front of him, she didn't think she could live with how he would look at her.

"They took it from me," she said quietly. "They burned it all too the ground. They killed my guys and then they had the gall to take my name. And for what? It was just business."

The more she spoke, the louder her voice got, but it still felt brittle. Knox shook his head in disappointment.

"We've been over this," he said.

"They-"

Knox slammed his fist into the table. "DON'T!" He took a deep shaky breath and repeated in a quieter voice, "Don't. This is on you, Cass."

Cass felt her breath catch. This was wrong. Knox didn't call her Cass. He called her Rose. He called her by her name.

"I need you to tell me why. I thought-… damn it, I thought you trusted me."

Cass felt her hand twitch again, once more trying to jump to the bottle of whiskey on the table and dull the world around her.

"Don't say that, Knox," she pleaded. "I do trust you!"

"Then why would you do this?" he asked again.

Cass stood to her feet. She was tired of hearing that question. She didn't even notice that the bottle of whiskey was now in her hand. "They took it away! They destroyed _my caravan_. Mine! That's the only thing that's ever been _mine_! And they turned it to ash! Alice McLafferty and Gloria Van Graff! They burned it!"

Just saying their names, Cass could feel the white hot rage that she'd tried to bury with the alcohol come racing back. But it was nothing compared to the hurt etched onto Knox's face.

"We had a plan!" he yelled. "I got all the evidence you needed to shut both of them down for good, to cripple their companies. We had everything we needed! Hsu was good for the prosecution until you SLIT THEIR GODDAMNED THROATS WHILE THEY SLEPT!"

Knox was standing now too, the only thing separating them was the table. However, to Cass the divide seemed like so much more. She crossed her arms, the bottle still in one hand, and refused to meet Knox's gaze.

"Do you want to know how I found out?" he asked. "Hsu told me when I gave the last bit of evidence to him. He nearly had me arrested for their murders. Do you know how that feels? To go from the high of thinking you've finally solved the biggest problem in the woman you loved's life," Loved. Past tense. The word was not lost on Cass, "And then drop to disbelief that she'd betray you like that? It's pretty fucking terrible, Cass."

He said it again. Cass. She hated how it sounded coming out of his mouth.

"What do you want? A fucking apology?" Cass spat at him, the words out and in the air before she had a chance to regret them. "Because if that's it, then _I'm sorry_."

Knox pushed off from the table and kicked his chair over. He was too angry to be still. "That's not what I want! And you know it," he accused. "I want you to tell me what the hell happened!"

Eyes locked on her bottle, Cass fell backwards back into her chair. "What can I say?" she asked miserably.

"Tell me what you were thinking!"

Thinking. That had been the problem. She couldn't stop thinking. Drink had always dulled the pain and allow her not to think, but then Knox had stopped that. And it had been great. She didn't _need_ it anymore. She was better than it. Knox made her better than it. Now she had Knox and she didn't have to worry about thinking because all those dark little thoughts running through her head? He made them seem so inconsequential. All the insecurities and worries weren't a problem with Knox.

But then he'd leave and all the shadows were cast in her mind again. But she'd stay strong and then he'd come back. She could beat the shadows.

At least that's what she'd thought. Then she'd asked him to go with her to find her ruined caravan. She'd _thought_ it would bring closure. Instead it just brought anger. Anger and rage at the two women who had destroyed it.

But once again, Knox had chased all the anger away. He'd promised her that they'd get even. He'd promised her he'd take down the Van Graffs and the Crimson Caravan Company. He might has well have promised her the moon, but the thought was still nice.

And then he'd went and started doing it. Ingratiating himself with both families, working his way into the merchant houses, finding ledgers, notes, all manner of incriminating evidence. Cass was ecstatic at first, but then Knox would leave again, to finish connecting the dots so he could sink the people who'd burnt her caravan.

And Cass would be left with her thoughts.

"I couldn't… They just…" she couldn't get the words out.

"What, Cass? Tell me what?"

She wanted to say it all to him. That she was so scared of the anger she felt when he was away that she'd started drinking again. She doused the fear and hate in whiskey. She'd love to tell him that. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't handle the idea of him risking his life in those vipers' pits, that she was afraid of them taking him from her too. That between the fear, and the hate, and the drink she'd taken it upon herself to solve the problem her way.

With a knife in the middle of the night. Three quick slices. Gloria and Alice. Slice and slice.

She wanted nothing more than to tell him all that. But she couldn't.

"Can we just skip this?" she pleaded, face fallen. "Can we just skip to the part where you throw me out?"

Knox stopped pacing and looked at her. "Throw you out?" He snorted humorlessly. "Like that's going to happen. Veronica would have my head if I threw you out, Cass. Like it or not, you still have friends in New Vegas that you haven't stabbed in the back."

"I'm sorry." The apology was so quiet, Cass didn't immediately realize it had come from her.

"I don't want your apology, Cass."

There it was again. He just kept saying it. And it hurt every time.

"Please… please don't call me that."

"What? What you rather me call you?"

Knox's voice was cold. It froze Cass's heart.

"I- I just- Just use my name. _Please_."

"And what name is that? The Whiskey Rose?"

Cass screamed and hurled the bottle of whiskey at him. Knox held his arms up to protect his face and the glass shattered, cutting his arms to ribbons. "Don't call me that!"

Knox didn't even act like his arms hurt. He just calmly started pulling glass out of the cuts. "Why not? That's exactly who you are."

Cass was dumbstruck. Just hearing that aloud summed up all her insecurities and fears in one neat little sentence. 'That's exactly who you are'. And Knox was right. It was who she was. Whenever the going got tough, she'd get drunk and whatever she woke up to was better than dealing with the troubles head on.

It was like that when she'd first discovered her caravan had been destroyed and it had happened again when she'd found out who destroyed it. And she'd dragged Knox down with her.

But she didn't want to acknowledge that. She _couldn't_ acknowledge it. Not with the whiskey helping. The whiskey made it so easy to deny everything.

"How dare you!? I'm the Whiskey Rose because I took out a couple of murderers?" she protested.

Knox kept pulling glass out of his arms. "I would have helped you," he said. "If you'd told me, killing them was more important than punishing them, I'd have helped you. I don't care about their deaths. I care that you stabbed me in the back while slitting their throats. You decided that their lives were worth more to you than what we had." Bloody pieces of glass clinked on the floor.

Cass hung her head in shame. She couldn't deny anything he'd just said. No amount of whiskey could do that. This was on her. Her hurt and his."

"I'm…"

"Don't apologize."

"… sorry."

Knox sighed and turned to leave the room, leaving Cass sitting alone in the dining room.

"I know you are, Rose. I know."

_Leave a review if you're feeling generous and I shall see you next time._


End file.
